Captain January,
of the Special Investigation Branch of the Royal Military Police, halted
abruptly for the excellent reason that a German S.S. trooper was pointing a
rifle at his stomach. A second German covered January’s colleague, Captain
Tissigny, of the Free French Military Police. It was a misty afternoon during
the last war, and the incident occurred on a bridge over the railway near the
French town of Metz. The
area was still in full occupation by the Germans.

Both Captain
January and Tissigny wore grimy berets and boiler suits. Both had red,
diamond-shaped patches on their backs. The two men had not shaved for a
couple of days and looked thoroughly scruffy. The two burly, scowling Germans
thought that January and Tissigny were fugitives from a French slave labour
force. Thousands of Frenchmen had been conscripted by the Germans to work for
them. Now that the Allies were driving the German armies back towards the
River Rhine, and there was confusion in the territories that the Germans had
held for so long, many Frenchmen—as well as Belgians and Dutch—were slipping
away from the labour camps and trying to find their way home. The S.S.
troopers thought that in Captain January and Tissigny they had nabbed a
couple of these deserters. The Germans had the idea that they were dealing
with half-starved fugitives who were dead scared of a German uniform. The S.S.
was a private army of the Nazis. They were the personal troops of Hitler, the
German leader. The Germans would probably have been safer if they had disturbed
a couple of spitting cobras instead of January and Tissigny. The railway
bridge was in a dreary area of the town. The gasworks were on one side, but
no gas was being made because of the shortage of coal, and the gasholders had
sunk to their lowest level. On the other side of the bridge were the
semi-derelict buildings of an old iron foundry. The German trooper who
levelled his rifle at Captain January glared at him ferociously and spoke in
limping French—in fact, it limped so badly it was hard to understand. “Where
have you come from?” the trooper demanded. Captain January created a surprise
for the troopers, and he did it by speaking to Tissigny in German. There was
nothing limping in the way January spoke. His tones were as Germanic as
sauerkraut—the favourite German dish of pickled cabbage. His plan in speaking
German was a simple one. He hoped to bluff the two S.S. troopers into
believing that he and Tissigny were German secret agents in disguise. It was
a plan that could easily work, for there were many such agents knocking about
in the battle areas. “Ach! They are a pair of conscientious fellow,
Oberscharfuhrer!” exclaimed Captain January. “They keep their eyes open!”
Tissigny’s wits worked with the speed of forked lightning, and if he was surprised
at being addressed as Oberscharfuhrer, which meant a superior class of
leader, he did not show it. “Yes, yes,” he replied in German. “We shall not
have to report them for inattention to duty.” Captain January gave the storm
trooper who had him covered an admiring look. “You need not apologise for
pointing your rifle at me,” January declared. “In fact, it is a tribute to
our disguise.” The trooper instantly swung his rifle back to the port and
clicked his heels, an action copied by the man who had held up Tissigny.

Captain
January’s bluff had worked. The troopers had taken him and Tissigny for fairly
high-ranking German officers in disguise. Once the troopers had put up their
rifles, it took Captain January only a split second to lock a judo grip on the
big German’s wrist and send him crashing against the parapet of the bridge. The
German uttered a gasp of pain and dropped his rifle. The other German writhed
in the grip that Tissigny had put on him. Captain January let go. He picked the
rifle up and slung it over the bridge on to the railway embankment. The second
rifle followed when Tissigny had disarmed the other German. “Start walking,”
snapped Captain January to the two dazed troopers. “I’m carrying a pistol, and
I’ll use it if you try any tricks.” Captain January and Tissigny hurried the
troopers off the bridge and steered them through a gap in the crumbling wall of
the iron foundry. They had just got inside when a lorry crammed with German
soldiers passed along the road. The foundry looked as if it had been bombed.
This was not so. The Allies had done very little bombing in the area. They
avoided attacks on French towns and cities as much as possible. “Why had you
been posted on the bridge?” Captain January asked. One of the German troopers
gave him a surly look. “We were told to watch the bridge, that is all I know,”
he answered. Tissigny jabbed his prisoner in the back with his automatic
pistol. “Is a special train expected?” he asked. The German shrugged. “It is
possible,” he replied. “Reichmarshal Sturm’s special train?” pursued Tissigny.
“We were not told any details,” replied the German. “But the Reichmarshal’s
train is in the region?” Tissigny exclaimed. “Yes,” grunted the German. Captain
January looked for somewhere to leave the Germans. He had belonged to the
Special Investigation Branch of the Military Police from the day it was formed.
The Special Investigation Branch was to the Military Police what the Criminal
Investigation Department was to the civil police. Captain January was a
detective in khaki. His special task, now that the war was nearing its end, was
to make sure that top-ranking Nazis who had looted art treasures and valuables
in the occupied countries did not get away with that loot. There was reason to
believe that Marshal Sturm had in his possession one of France’s
great treasures, the gold and diamond Collar of the Order of the Golden Fleece.
Captain January had been on the Marshal’s tracks for a week, and was glad to
have the assistance of Tissigny, not only for the Frenchman’s local knowledge,
but also because he was a good man to have at your back when you were in a jam.
Tissigny was January’s counterpart in the Free French Military Police. It was
Tissigny who drew attention to a flight of steps leading down to a cellar. Captain
January ordered the S.S. men to go down the steps. Then January and Tissigny
placed boards across the opening at the top of the steps, and stacked bricks on
the planks. There were plenty of bricks lying about. The military policeman
made a big pile of them on the boards. “The Germans will not be able to get out
of the cellar now,” declared Tissigny at last. “We must remember they are shut
in,” remarked Captain January. “We can come back when our present mission is
accomplished and hand them over to our troops.” Tissigny nodded. “It will be
these two Germans’ bad luck if we get bumped off by their comrades,” he said.
Captain January grinned. He was tall and swarthy, with piercing eyes, and a
hint of ruthlessness in the set of his jaw. “We must find somewhere to watch
the railway,” he said. “Sturm’s train will have to pass through the junction.” “It
will surely not arrive until it is dark,” murmured Tissigny. “The Marshal takes
very good care of his own skin, and would not risk an attack on his train by
one of our planes.” Captain January and Tissigny moved across the iron foundry
towards the railway. It was known that Hitler, the German leader, had sent
Marshal Sturm to the region to bolster up resistance against the hammer blows
of the American armoured divisions which were striking through France
towards the German border. The wall on the railway side was in a rather better
state of preservation than the other walls, but January and Tissigny found a
lookout where some bricks had fallen away. The embankment sloped down to a
double line of metals. In one direction the railway disappeared under the
bridge, and in the other it curved towards the junction and sidings of a big
marshalling yard. The town of Metz was an
important railway centre. Captain January and Tissigny looked cautiously
through the hole in the wall. It was a good thing they did not stick their
necks out, because a patrol of seven or eight Germans was moving slowly along.
Two of them were paying special attention to the far track. “From the way they’re
poking about, they’re making sure the Marquis haven’t sabotaged the line,”
Captain January muttered. The Marquis were members of the French Resistance
movement who fought in secret against the German troops who occupied their
land. They had become known as the Marquis because the French Resistance
operated a great deal from the marquis or dense scrubland which covered parts
of the country. “Surely it means the special train is expected,” replied
Tissigny. “It will arrive from the west, and, I imagine, will be routed through
Nancy and Strasbourg into Germany.
“We’ve got to get on to the train!” Captain January exclaimed. “It will have to
stop here for water, won’t it?” Tissigny nodded. “Yes, or to change engines,”
he answered. “We’ll get as near the engine depot as we can,” said Captain
January.

KLEPE THE CREEP

During the day
there had been no activity in the railway yards at Metz. As
soon as darkness fell shunting started. There was not much fear of air attack,
as low clouds had drifted over the sky in the late evening. Here and there
lights were switched on and the shunters had their lamps. Most of the men
working the yard belonged to a German railway battalion. In addition to the
railwaymen, German S.S. troopers were on the prowl.

Captain January and Tissigny picked
a way through the maze of sidings. The clanking of a shunting engine drowned
the rumble of a van that was on the move. In the nick of time Captain January
saw the van’s dark shape loom up and pulled the Frenchman clear. “Thanks,”
gasped Tissigny, for he had had a very narrow squeak. He had been on the track
right in the van’s path. “Don’t mention it,” replied Captain January. January’s
shin suffered as he tripped over a ground signal that was not lighted. Moving
about a railway yard in the dark had its perils. The two men kept moving
cautiously until they were near the motive power depot. Then they stood in the
deep shadow of a great stack of briquettes. French locomotives burned
briquettes. German engines were fuelled by ordinary coal. A shaded lamp cast a
downward glow on two big German locomotives, each with huge smoke deflectors,
that were coupled together. The engine crews were preparing them for the road.
The leading engine was a 2-6-2 and
the other a giant 2-8-2. These
figures referred to the wheel arrangements of the engines. Into the light of
the lamp strutted a foxy-faced German, an officer of the S.S. He was a short
man, but added to his stature by wearing high-heeled boots and a high crowned
cap. Four troopers with slung rifles were with him. “That’s Klepe, Major
Klepe,” growled Tissigny. “It would give me great pleasure to kick him in the
teeth.” “Perhaps you’ll have the opportunity,” muttered Captain January. Klepe
snarled at the German engineman. “Show me your identification cards,” he
rasped. The drivers and firemen cringed in front of the nasty little man. They
produced their identificationcards,
which he scrutinized carefully. “The cards are in order,” Klepe snapped
shrilly. “You have a great responsibility tonight. Handle the train with care.
You have the honour to be driving Reichmarshal Sturm, and he doe’s not like
being jolted. Give him a smooth journey.” “We will do that,” said one of the
drivers gruffly. The safety valve of the 2-8-2 engine lifted, and steam blew off with a
deafening roar. Captain January and Tissigny were not surprised by the
conversation they had heard. It had been pretty obvious that the locomotives
were to take over the special train when Major Klepe ran his rule over the
enginemen. “We must get into the train,” said Captain January. “Of course,”
replied Tissigny, “but you can bet your last trouser button that the doors of
every carriage will be guarded.” “My idea is this,” said Captain January, and
told Tissigny of the plan he had in mind. Tissigny rubbed his nose with the
back of his thumb. “Yes, it has possibilities,” he agreed.

THE TRAIN-JUMPERS

A few minutes
afterwards, Captain January and Tissigny were in an empty coal waggon, a big
steel vehicle that stood on a siding adjacent to the main line. The two men had
judged as nearly as they could the position where the engines would be changed.

There was rain in the air. “The
train’s coming,” announced Captain January when he detected a rumble to the
west. A long, heavy train came slowly round the curve. It was pulled by two
French locomotives that showed dimly against the sky. The locomotives passed the
coal waggon, and ran on for the length of two vehicles before wheezing to a
stop. Both the leading vehicles of the train were baggage cars. Coaches, with
windows blacked out by shutters, stretched back a long way. A light glimmered
behind the tender of the second engine. Obviously it was cast by the lamp of
the shunter who was about to do the uncoupling. “Shall we go?” demanded
Tissigny. “Wait,” snapped Captain January as he looked out of their waggon.
“There’s a posse coming along.” Tissigny took a look. A shaded torch bobbed
about. Three men were walking along the side of the train. A door at the front
end of the third vehicle opened, and a faint shaft of light shone out. An
officer of the S.S. peered down from the carriage door. “Is that you, Klepe?”
he exclaimed. “Yes, Kommandant,” replied Klepe. “Have you had a trouble-free
journey?” “All has gone well so far,” was the gruff answer. “And you?” “We are
exercising the utmost vigilance,” Klepe answered. “Two of my troopers, careless
buffoons who will be punished, were discovered in a cellar nearby. “They had
come off worst in an encounter with two dangerous fellow, probably men of the
Marquis, who have so far dodged us.” Captain January looked at Tissigny and
smiled. At least, they wouldn’t have to worry any more about the two Germans
they had shut up. “Himmel! That’s bad!” snapped the train commandant to Klepe.
“I will warn my men. I have a sentry posted at every door.” He added a hasty
“Auf wiedersehen” – farewell – stepped right back into the train, and slammed
the door. Klepe and his two troopers came on in a single file. “We will watch
the engines being changed and make sure everything is in order,” rasped Klepe.
For an instant Captain January thought this decision would cramp his and
Tissigny’s style. Then an idea flashed into January’s head and he passed it on
to Tissigny in a whisper. They drew the two bolts that held the big, ponderous
downward-opening door of the waggon in position. Then they crouched behind it.
Klepe and the troopers were just below, walking past the waggon, as Captain
January hissed “Now!” He and Tissigny gave the steel door a push. It swung
outwards on its hinges and descended on the heads of the Germans. They dropped
as if they had been coshed. The released locomotives started to puff away.
Captain January and Tissigny crept forward for twenty yards or so before
getting right down and crawling under the front carriage just behind the
leading bogie. The shunter waved his lamp as a signal. At least two other
railwaymen, one a sergeant of the railway battalion, stood with him. Captain
January and Tissigny heard the German locomotives backing down on the train.
The shunter flicked his lamp to red as, with a thud, the buck-eye couplers of
the rear engine’s tender and the leading coach engaged. The shunter turned the
lamp to white, and passed it to the sergeant while he ducked under the buffers
to connect the brake and steam pipes. This was soon done, and he stepped clear.
The sergeant directed the lamp on the coupling and pipe connections to make
sure that everything was in order. Then he stepped away and gave the guard the
green light for the train to move off. Captain January started to wriggle
forward under the bogie. “This is where we get on or get left,” he muttered.
The railwaymen, their done, began to move away. Captain January and Tissigny
rose between the tender of the second engine and the end of the baggage car.
The locomotive nearest the train, the 2-8-2, gave a hoot. There was an instantaneous
response from the driver of the leading engine on his whistle. Captain January
pulled himself up on to one buffer of the second engine, and Tissigny was
jack-knifed over the other as the train started to move. The exhausts of the
engines made a deafening din. Steam spurted from the cylinder cocks. V felt
slightly more secure when he located a handhold on the back of the tender.
Tissigny crouched on the shank of the buffer on his side. They ran the gauntlet
of the dim station lights as the train rolled past the platforms. The speed of
the train increased. Sparks
whirled back like fireflies from the engines. “Right, Tissigny, we can get
started,” shouted Captain January. “How do we open the gangway door?” January
used the torch dropped by Klepe to look at the door on the end of the baggage
car. It was secured by bars locked in position by a lever. Captain January
needed both hands and a lot of luck. He stuck the torch in his mouth. He used the
small metal steps on the back of the swaying tender to work his way across to
the buck-eye coupler on which he proposed to stand. The vehicles jolted. Water
came slopping over the back of the tender from the tank and soused January.
Captain January got a foot on the massive coupling and passed the torch at arms
stretch to Tissigny. Then January held on with one hand and gripped the lever
of the baggage car door with the other hand. The lever was very stiff. January
gave it a terrific jerk. The lever shifted and the door fell out and dropped
between the tender and the car. Captain January, black, greasy, and wet,
stepped into the gangway of the baggage car. He was up against another door
with a frosted glass window. It was locked. Tissigny came after him and
produced a key. “Try this,” he offered. It was a German Federal Railway key.
“Where did you pinch it?” inquired Captain January. “Oh, off some German,” said
Tissigny. “I had to stun him first,” he added. Captain January unlocked the
door. Before he opened it he drew his automatic pistol. He pushed the door
open. The van was stacked with boxes, but no German was travelling in it. They
moved into the gangway. Captain January unlocked the door of the second car,
and then shoved it open and sprang in. In the car, the front guard of the train
sat looking into his periscope, which gave him a view of the signals and line
ahead of the train. Two S.S. troopers sat on a box. As Captain January burst
in, one of them shouted and snatched for his pistol. Captain January’s gun
cracked and the trooper pitched off the box. January’s bullet had hit him in
the shoulder. The train roared into a tunnel.

A SHOCK FOR STURM

Reichmarshal Sturm
sat at the table in his private bulletproof car. He turned the scales at
eighteen stones, but was tall in proportion. He had several double chins, and
yet he was a hard man. His eyes were bright and beady. He wore an ornate tunic
with the badge of the German eagle in gold. A map was spread out on the table.
He was reading a report.

His Adjutant, Colonel Triber, a
tall Prussian, and another aide, Major Count Desendorf, who wore an eyeglass,
were with him. “When am I going to get my dinner?” demanded Sturm. Triber
looked at his wrist watch. “It was ordered for seven o’clock, Excellency,” he replied. “It is a
quarter to seven now.” The door at the leading end of the car flew open and a
German fell in backwards. He appeared to be dead. Sturm and his companions
stared as if mesmerized as two grimy men wearing filthy boiler suits and berets
sprang in and shut the door. Count Desendorf came out of his trance very
swiftly and made a stab for a bell-push. Captain January fired and, despite the
swaying of the train, his aim was accurate. The Count lost his fingertip and
screamed with pain. Tissigny slithered to the table. He rammed his gun into
Sturm’s stomach. “Where is the Collar of the Order of the Golden Fleece?”
Tissigny demanded. Sturm stared at him and spluttered. “We know you have it,”
Tissigny added. “Oh, put a bullet into his fat stomach,” snapped Captain
January. “We’ll find it—” Sturm’s complexion went blotchy. “No, no!” he
burbled. “I have the Collar. I—I was arranging for its safe custody.” “There’s
no need to lie, you fat robber,” rasped Captain January. “Where is it?” Colonel
Triber made a sudden leap for the other door. Captain January’s gun fired and
the German staggered and fell. “Um, he showed more courage than sense,” snapped
Captain January. Sturm, his face glistening with perspiration, put a key on the
table. He pointed to a heavy leather brief-case placed on a settee at the side
of the car. Captain January reached for the brief-case and inspected the lock
before inserting the key. “We’ll make sure he isn’t bluffing,” he said. He
opened the brief-case and slid out a box that looked like an antique. It was
made of leather and tooled in gold. Upon it was the cipher of the French King
to whom the Collar had once belonged. Captain January opened the box. Diamonds,
rubies, emeralds, sapphires, opals, and pearls shimmered in the light. An exquisite
enameled plaque with the emblem of the Golden Fleece, bordered by jewels, hung
from the collar on golden chains. “Whew, you can well believe it’s worth two
million pounds,” breathed Captain January. Tissigny made a quick bee-line for
the door and stood at the side. It opened, and a stately servant stepped in.
“Dinner is served,” he began. Tissigny put a hand round the scruff of the
servant’s neck, heaved him into the saloon, shut the door, and locked it.
Captain January shut the jewel case. “We’ve got what we came for,” he said to
Tissigny. “It’s about time we got going!” He reached for the communication cord
and pulled it down. There was a rasp from the wheels as the brakes made a
semi-application. The train started to slow down. Sturm glared at them
furiously. “What has happened to my guards?” he spluttered. “Some we shot, some
we coshed, and one went through a window,” replied Captain January. “Cheerio,
Marshal! Your name is on the list of war criminals, so I suppose you’ll be
hanged in due course.” The train came to a stop, and, while there was confusion
and alarm among the officers and guards in the back half of the train at the
unexpected halt, Captain January and Tissigny jumped down and vanished in the
darkness.